A Thousand Silver Scars
by AmicableAlien
Summary: She was a spy who had just gained her courage only to lose her freedom. He was a bitter mercenary who should have been a noble Prince. She wanted to kill him. He should have killed her. And they should have never fallen in love.
1. 1: Dawn

**1. Dawn**

* * *

Dawn.

Oh gods, dawn.

The air is like fresh water. Dumped on the sand, he gulps it in. Lungfuls, chestfuls. His fists his scarred fingers in the sand. It comes up dry. Gritty.

No slime. No stones.

_NowarinBaSingSenooncanbreachourwalls – _

No.

Gods, give him this morning. This dawn. He's too afraid to open his eyes, too afraid of what he might see – _Is it a trick? Is it -?_

But the air can't be wrong.

Not even the Dai Li can torture a man with the promise of fresh air.

_Air. _His heart races. _Dawn. _Breath comes a little faster. Eyes, gummy from the darkness, wrench apart… slowly…

"_Get up_."

Hands under his arms. Palms like slabs of rock. Rush of air. Rush of blood. He's up – on his feet – but months in a prison too small to stand have taken the strength from his legs. He can't make it - Water fills the bones. Knees shake. The pull was too sudden, too fast, he's falling, he's stumbling…

"_Hold him up._"

Hold him up. Two hands. Four. Vices on his arms. He lolls between them. A doll with broken traces. A cripple with human crutches. He can't hold his own head. It hangs between slumped shoulders, a dead weight. Rats' tails of greasy hair hide a face hollow-cheeked from hunger.

_Just leave me. Just let me die. Let me die here, in the air and the sunshine, oh please gods, just…_

"_Bring him."_

The world is a black blur. They turn away. Marching. _Ba-bump-ba-bump-ba-bump._ The ground is rough. His bare feet drag along, through the sand, through the stones. He doesn't even bother to find a foothold. Instead, they heave him along. He could be just a hank of dead meat. He might as well be.

The tang of the lake breezes snaps him. Smooth ground now. He picks up a shiver and can't stop. His feet hop and dance. Shudders wrack the wasted chest and arms. They fling him down in disgust. "_Bloody…"_

He curls up, curls away. He doesn't care. _Just don't take me back. For the love of the gods, just _don't take me back…

It could have been hours on that train, or minutes. Days, or seconds. No one speaks. No one moves. The grate of stone on rock is a never-ending growl. He's left alone. No one sits near him. There's only cold stone, hard stone. Dry stone.

Every second and he dares. He dares to hope.

They stop. The train screams to a halt. Soft pads towards him. The slap of bare feet.

"_On your feet."_

There is no choice. They rip him up from the stone.

The air is changed. Smoke stings the lungs. The stench of rotten eggs makes the stomach roil. Still, they don't stop. The ground grows rougher, they twist and turn but they never stop…

"_Enough."_

He's dropped to his knees. Flung forward. He cradles his head in his arms, waiting for the blows, the kicks from too many feet and too many… Habit overrides hope and he flinches as the feet draw close.

Hot breath in his ear. The creak of a leather strap, the crinkle of a long green gown. Another man would not have stood this. Another man would fight and lash out but he… His back tenses. His arms wrap around closer. Slick and cold, sweat slimes on his skin.

"_Remember." _The hiss is full of malice. "_Remember what you are._"

_Nothing_.

The feet retreat. He's alone.

For a minute, he can't move. The silence, the space… all he can remember is the constant hack of prisoners, the stale smell of mould and blight, the swing of the lantern outside his door… It's hell. It's safe. It's hated and it's familiar and now he's alone and there's nothing, no guards, no rats, no wal –

The sun comes out. Slowly, slowly. Creeping along the ground. Along his skin. Through the dank cotton and filthy wool. He _feels_ it and it is life. Life and heat and _joy._

Eyelids struggle against mucus. It gums his eyes and seals them shut but he can open them, because he _has to _open them, he has to _see_, to feel, to live –

It happens.

He's blinded. Colour surges against him. Brightness, whiteness, _it hurts too much_. But greed takes over. Greed fights pain and fear. Greed and longing swallow up the brightness, consume it as the dawn surges over him with heat and warmth and _fire_.

For the first time in over a year, Lu Ten lived.

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Hello! I know I haven't written this in a long, long time but it's been on my mind a bit lately and I thought I''d give it a go. Hope you all still enjoy it and thank you for sticking with it!


	2. 1: Dawn (2)

**1. Dawn**

* * *

Dawn.

Siyai Saral stood silently at the edge of the cliff. The cold lick of early-morning dew slowly numbed his bare feet. Without the heavy blanket he used throughout the night, the sea breeze was bitterly cold. It lifted and tugged at the mane of dark brown hair that hung like a brown bear's pelt down past his stocky shoulders. A hundreds of feet below him, the night-black hole of the sea churned and crashed against the rock, flinging up armfuls of white spray. If he licked his lips, he could taste the salt.

Beyond the horizon, the sun had not yet risen. Pink and white scraped away the dust and greyness of the sky. Slowly, in the distance, the white crests of waves rose out of the darkness.

Veiled in grainy, white light, the walls of Kalinka shone a dull cream. Black boats, smaller than ants, bobbled precariously in the famous harbour. Even at this early hour, tiny multi-coloured lights twinkled from the districts. The night struggled to end, yet Kalinka doggedly clung to its excesses and its anonymity.

"Is that it?"

A wash of shock prickled his skin. Glancing back, he grimaced. "Didn't hear you."

She shrugged away the accusation. She moved like a wolf now. Silent as a shadow. A lot had changed about her in the last year and a half, Sar reflected. That was just one thing.

She jerked her chin at the sprawling city. "Is that it?"

"Yeah." He folded his arms. "That's it."

She studied Kalinka silently, warily. In return, Sar studied her. It had become a habit with him recently.

Short and strong, Shun Haneli had the pale tan and dark brown hair of all Northlanders. Strong eyebrows creased over heavily lashed eyes. Grey eyes. His stomach twisted a little. All Shun girls had grey eyes like that. Seeing them reminded him of Canthra. Haneli's eldest sister.

She'd stayed behind. It was safer. For now.

He couldn't. Too dangerous, after the Fire Nation finally drove their way through the high mountain valleys of the Northlands. A man like him – ex-bandit, ex-rebel – he'd only buy a one-way ticket to the mines if he stayed. And Haneli…

Well, Earthbenders were never safe. Not now. Not good ones. And whatever Haneli had been when she was younger – nothing special, from what he'd heard – that had more than changed. Since she came back. From wherever she'd been.

"Kai never said it would be that big." Her voice broke in on his thoughts. Those Shun grey eyes turned to him.

Sar grunted. There was an awful lot the extravagant, imperious Princess had failed to mention, in his opinion. "_Come to Kalinka!_" She'd declared, that day she'd left her temporary sanctuary in the Northlands. "_I'll help you. Come with me, Haneli. Canthra…" _Luminous green eyes had flickered over him, a wicked light in their depths. "_Even you, Sar._"

Canthra had refused. Not yet, she'd said. Not now. His heart had warmed then, reading her meaning in the refusal. That night was the first time he'd dared to kiss her.

Haneli had stayed silent. Hugged her friend tight. Stayed. But two days later, she disappeared. She didn't return for over a year.

The Earthbender turned back. Behind them, the mounds of blankets began to stir. Sleepy exiles started to stretch, shivering in the dawn chill. Thirty young men and woman, Earthbenders and fighters, had slipped out of their valley two nights after the Fire Nation invaded. Sar could still remember the lights flickering along the valley sides that night, from lone farmhouses and tiny hamlets. Lighting the way for the exiles, silent support. Still hear the muffled sobs from families as they passed, collecting the best of their children, the most vulnerable targets, for their long journey south.

Twenty of those fugitives had slipped away on their march; some to Ba Sing Se. Some to mercenary bands. Some went back, the wrench of homesickness overcoming common sense.

Ten of them made it here. To Kalinka, to whatever waited for them at the Princess's mercy.

"It's going to be fine." Haneli's singsong accent shush-hushed over the words. It was as if she had read his mind. But her words didn't reassure. There was too much uncertainty there for reassurance. "Kai will help us. We'll be fine here."

"Yeah." Sar went to gather his goods. Doing something practical calmed him. Usually. And they needed to be ready this morning. For whatever came. "It's going to be fine."

His words rang hollow too.

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_Hello! Here's another chapter. If you want more information on the Northlands, take a peek at my profile page or please PM if you have other questions! Hope you enjoy reading! _


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